


there was pain (i made friends with it)

by brbabe



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Pianist, Alternate Universe - Politics, Character Study, Drinking & Talking, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 08:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20355307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brbabe/pseuds/brbabe
Summary: Johnny said “anything you want to do, mark” and right now, of all the things Mark could do, what he wants to do the most is kiss Donghyuck. Right here, under the karaoke lights while Donghyuck hovers over him like a dream come true – big eyes and enticing lips – and the room smells like their overly sweet drinks.“I– I want to kiss you.”Donghyuck giggles. “What?”Mark is not going to back down. “I want to kiss you, Donghyuck.”





	there was pain (i made friends with it)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Here are some warnings for you guys.
> 
> 1\. This fic is extremely personal as much as it is made up. Mark's way of dealing with death, his hurt, that's real. Some situations are fictional, some are not.
> 
> Which brings me to the next disclaimer!
> 
> 2\. There's a lot of talking about death in here, if it's a trigger please don't read. 
> 
> 3\. In no way I tried to romanticise any situation or any issue here, that's mostly how things happened with me so I'm writing it out.
> 
> 4\. Please be kind. Overall, it's the most personal work I've done so far.

Mark would never imagine himself in his current situation; of course, partially because he has never thought about going against his Dad’s orders, but mainly because he never stood a chance against his security team if he ever tried to sneak out – until Johnny came along. 

Agent Johnny was heaven sent to set Mark free from his chains, the ones that secured him in his enormous room. It wasn't easy to make Agent Johnny risk his own job to make Mark’s birthday wish turn true, it had been a long, hard process. Every day Mark would ask, _ hey agent johnny, what if you let me sneak out today? _ And the answer was always the same _ over my dead body, kid. _ Until one day, without even planning on it, Mark melted Agent Johnny’s heart. 

It was way past midnight, and Mark’s curfew is always at ten pm sharp, but Mark wasn't sleepy and he had read all the comic books Agent Johnny managed to sneak out in between the history, politics and english books Mark was given. Awake and anxious, Mark sat down at the kitchen’s countertop, munching quietly on an apple – he never liked apples, but watermelons were too messy and his father always hated a mess – and Agent Johnny appeared out of nowhere. 

“What are you doing here, kid?” He had asked.

Mark didn’t have an answer, at least not one he could give to an agent that worked for his father, but there was always something about Agent Johnny that made Mark feel less lonely. “I miss my mum.” He had said, then, choosing to tell the truth instead of coming up with a lie. 

Mark was tired of lying, of giving people fake smiles, of never talking about his mother. Everyone knew about Mark’s mother. She was famous, after all, incredibly so – Korea’s most famous pianist, the woman who made the nation shed tears after tears day by day. Everyone knew how she died: a violent car crash. Mark had been fifteen years old. 

“Oh,” Agent Johnny muttered. He sat on the kitchen’s countertop with Mark. “You must really miss her.”

“Everyday.” He nodded. “It kills me, Agent Johnny, that there’s not a single picture of her around the house because my father hates to remember her, hates to talk about her. It’s like she was never real, but she’s my mother. She is– she was my best friend.”

“Why doesn’t he let you hang up her pictures on the wall?” Johnny had whispered, eyes sad – full of pity. Mark was used to it, but still it didn't feel less harmful to be looked at like that.

No one knows about this, about why Mr. Lee never talks about his wife – unless he’s giving a speech trying to win that 10% of votes he needs for his re-election – but Mark does because Mark had been fifteen, and he had always been smart.

“They were going to divorce. Mum wanted to divorce him, she had found someone else.” Mark replied. “An artist, just like her.” 

“Oh,” Johnny muttered again. “That’s– that’s–”

“I know.” Mark laughed. “I’m going to be twenty-one years old in a week, Agent Johnny–” 

“Just Johnny is fine.”

Mark nodded. “I'm going to be twenty-one years old in a week, Johnny, and since I was fifteen I’ve never played the piano. You know why?”

Johnny shook his head. 

“Father hates the sound of it. My mum's piano lays forgotten in the ballroom, I’m not allowed to touch it.”

“I’m sorry, Mark.”

Mark smiled at him. “Don’t be. I think I’m going to bed, it’s too late. Thank you, Johnny, for listening to me. I– I don’t have friends, you know, that I feel like I could share this with.”

“Oh Mark,” Johnny said. “You can always talk to me.”

Mark hadn't planned on telling Johnny so much – on sharing so much, but he did. That night, when he went to bed he felt lighter somehow, for having talked to someone. The next day, Johnny had barged into his room saying: 

“I got you a birthday present, but hell Mark, you need to be careful, if something happens to you, I’ll die. I’ll literally die.”

Mark was still half asleep, he just nodded his head. “What is it?”

“I’m going to let you sneak out a day before your birthday... You know your father is preparing a birthday dinner for you on your actual birthday so that’s all I could do. You’ll have till the sunset free to do whatever you want. Think about what you want.” Johnny whispered. “Just a few hours and then you’re back home, safe and sound and on time for your birthday dinner.”

That's more or less, how Mark ended up here. 

In the heart of Seoul, alone and free, wearing ripped jeans and a loose white shirt that Johnny had prepared for him (_ you can’t wander around the city with your posh clothes, you’re gonna get robbed five minutes in _) and a mask, both to keep him safe from the light dust floating around and to keep him from being recognised. Johnny had also handed him enough money so Mark could actually, for once, enjoy being a normal, 20 year old boy. 

He doesn’t know what to do first. His heart feels light for the first time in a while and he just stops. For a second, he just stops and watches the people – the children and dogs, moms and dads, businessmen and businesswomen, the elderly at the bench, young people across the street bumping purposely on each other and laughing. 

A whole world he isn’t part of. He watches and then, he’s got an idea. He knows exactly where he wants to go. 

His mum had brought him here every Thursday when she wasn’t travelling. They used to dress up – her so she could hide her identity and Mark so he could be just a kid wearing a costume – and she would let him sit down on her lap so he would be able to watch all the performances.

The building used to be a school, but then it closed and the next owner turned it into an art’s place, there was a different art exposition every day, from paintings and sculptures to music and dance– everything happened there. Mark loved it, everything about it, he looked forward to these days when his mum would get home and say “_ choose your costume for tomorrow, baby" _he knew exactly what she meant every time. 

He knows that when she died, the art’s building put up on the wall a big painting of her for a week and people all over the city would come to see it, they’d bring her flowers and candles and plushies and they would sing a song or two and pray for her. 

Mark wanted to come and see it for himself so, so bad, but his father forbade him. If Johnny were his friend back then, Mark is sure Johnny would have brought him to see the painting of his mum, and they would bring her her favourite flowers – tulips – and play her some of her favourite songs. Mark would kneel and pray for her soul, too, and tell her he loved her more than anything in the world just like he does every night before going to bed. 

The gallery is open and packed, Mark notices, an art exposition happening at the same time the stage across the room has a girl dancing to classical Chinese music. Mark immediately smiles, he feels at home here more than he feels at his father’s big, empty and cold house. 

Mark finds a seat closer to the stage and relishes in the way the music seems to run through his veins, he watches intently as the girl moves and claps hard when she’s done. For a minute there, as they clear the stage and prepares for another performance, Mark zones off, thinking about his mum.

It's always like this, near his birthday. He can go months without crying over it, with the hurt asleep, but as soon as August comes, he knows he’s going to miss her. It’s hard, that’s all, but he is a grown-up, big boy. 

When he looks at the stage again, there’s a piano there. There’s a boy too, dressed in tight jeans and a white shirt that, unlike Mark’s own loose white shirt, is tight around his torso and it makes his tanned skin stand out. The boy bows and smiles at the crowd, he doesn’t seem nervous at all, he smiles like the stage is his living room. 

“- and I’m back again with my great piano skills, as you all must already know, after my accident, I stopped playing for a few months, but now I’m on a roll, just cannot stop _ pianing _all over the place!”

The crowd laughs and Mark is instantly captivated, not only by the boy’s sweet, honey-ish voice or his undeniable beauty but by his carefree spirit, the way the whole crowd seems to eat up whatever it is he’s saying– he owns the crowd and the stage and looks extremely angelic under the stage lights. 

Now, Mark has always known he likes boys, at first, he hated it, but if there’s something that makes him feel okay is the absolute certainty that his mum would never deny him her love, even if she knew about his preferences. 

With that in mind, Mark lets his eyes run along the boy’s face, full lips and flirty eyes, his thighs that are hugged by his black jeans so well – he looks good, extremely so. Mark almost never sees boys around his age, never lusts after any of them. His first and only kiss had been with the son of one of his father’s associates and Mark felt weird after. It’s a good change, to be honest.

Mark’s To Do list now contains “lust after as many cute boys you can”.

The boy sits down and clears his throat. Mark recognises the musical notes instantly, automatically, like it’s his second nature his fingers follow the boy’s fingers, pressing on his thighs as if he was the one playing. He closes his eyes as _ Rêverie _floods his mind.

Debussy has always been one of his favourites, his mum used to tease him for being so predictable, but he loved it. Mark’s movements aren’t smooth like they used to be, but he feels oh, so happy he still remembers every note.

As the boy reaches the end of the song, Mark blinks away tears and closes his eyes. He misses this– this feeling, the exact feeling of producing these notes with his own hands, from touching the piano, reading his favourite music sheets. There’s nothing better, for him. 

The last note fades away into thin air and Mark opens his eyes. 

“Thank you!” The boy bows again. “I’m going to be near the buffet in case anyone wants to talk about my project! Remember, every donation helps!” The crowd erupts into claps, into whistles, the boys seem to be loved by everyone– and Mark can understand why people would be enchanted by him. 

After he leaves, Mark waits anxious until he sees the boy walking behind the stage, then he gets up and follows. It’s not like he knows what he’s doing, he doesn’t have a plan, Mark just wants to talk. He never has a chance to do so, the only people he talks are his own security team, his father’s associates, their sons. If he’s lucky, his tutor will bring his kids into their library and Mark will play with them.

He’s _ lonely _. He wants, more than anything, a friend. 

And Johnny said “_ do whatever you want, but don’t get in trouble” _ as Mark was leaving the car and he’s sure talking to a boy and being friendly doesn’t equals trouble. 

The boy has his back to Mark, hands full of food and he’s alone. Mark takes a deep breath and takes off his mask, putting in on his back pocket. 

“Hi,” He says, when he’s close enough to be sure the boy will listen to him. “I really liked your performance!”

The boy turns on his heels, facing Mark. His cheeks are full, he’s munching the food he previously had on his hands. He lifts a finger and Mark laughs.

“Thanks!” He replies, after swallowing. “It’s good to be back!”

He’s so _ cheerful _, Mark feels inadequate next to him. “I’d like to know more about your project, the one you just mentioned.”

“Oh! You’re new here, then?”

Mark nods. “I used to come here with my mum all the time, but it’s been years.” He looks around. “So much changed.”

“Did you bring her today? I’m Donghyuck, by the way!” 

He doesn’t want Beautiful, Cheerful Donghyuck’s face to change into a sad, pitiful face, so he lies.

“No, I didn’t, she’s– she’s busy. I’m–” Mark stops. Technically, Mark is a common name, maybe not in Seoul, but it is. And Mark doubts Donghyuck would know him, anyways, even if he does knows his father. “Minhyung.” He already lied once, and he hates lying, but desperate needs and all that.

Donghyuck nods, fascinated. “Minhyung.”

No one calls Mark like that, even his mum didn’t. It’s weird, like he’s someone else and then he realises it fits the situation. He is not Mark right now. "I like the way you say it.”

“Great, then, Minhyung. You said you were interested in my project, right?”

“Yes!” Tomorrow Mark’s going to be twenty-one, he will be the one in charge of his own bank account and right now, donating to whatever it is Donghyuck does seems like a great idea. 

“Do you want to go somewhere else so we can talk?” Donghyuck asks. Mark notices a few crumbs on his shirt.

“I’d love to.”

They leave. Donghyuck leads the way, of course, because as much as Mark wants to pretend he is just a normal kid who’s used to walk around the city, he isn’t. He barely leaves his father’s house unless it’s one of his father’s official schedules or something related to it.

One thing Mark realises as soon as they are outside is that Donghyuck loves to _ talk _, he talks about everything and Mark listens, humming from time to time. He likes Donghyuck’s voice.

“Here!” Donghyuck points to a little door in between a laundry service building and a tattoo parlor. “It’s a karaoke slash bar. Super fun and creative! My friend owns the place.”

“Oh, that’s a nice combo.” Mark says.

He's never been to either of these places Donghyuck listed.

“We can get a nice table and ask for any kind of drinks.”

Mark follows Donghyuck through the door, the corridor is narrow and a little claustrophobic and Mark holds onto the hem of Donghyuck’s shirt automatically. It’s for a millisecond, though, because then the corridor is over with and the karaoke slash bar place opens up into a beautifully decorated salon with a bunch of doors to his left and a bunch of tables and decorated chairs to his right. 

There’s even a dancefloor right in the middle. It’s empty.

“Why is it empty?” He asks. 

“It’s not opened yet.” Donghyuck replies. “But I’m sure Doyoung hyung won’t have a problem with us here.”

As soon as he finished talking, someone walks to them with a serious face. “What are you doing here?”

Donghyuck smiles. “Hyung! Be nice, I brought a friend.”

Donghyuck’s hyung turns to Mark and his face changes into a very welcoming face. “Hello.” He turns to Donghyuck again. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Ah, Doyoung hyung,” Donghyuck clicks his tongue. “I don’t need these classes, I’m an artist.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Even artists need to know basic math.”

“Anyway!” Donghyuck clasps his hands together. “I brought Minhyung so I can talk to him about my project!”

Doyoung’s face softens. “That’s really nice, Hyuck.”

“Can you bring us something to drink?”

“Sure thing.”

Donghyuck looks at Mark and reaches for his hand, “Let’s go, then.”

There’s a table near the wall, isolated from the bigger lights. Donghyuck lets go of Mark’s hand and sits down, he puts his elbows on the table. “Be my guest.”

Mark smiles and sits across from him. “Is that your brother?”

“Doyoung hyung? No, no, he’s a friend. The owner I told you about. He’s– he’s helped me a lot, especially since my accident.”

_ Accident _, Mark thinks. He wants to ask, but it’s not his place. Donghyuck notices, though, because he smiles. 

“I was in a car accident.” Donghyuck explains. “My ex boyfriend was driving and he– we were talking and then… I don’t remember it very well.” He shakes his head. “I have a scar on my back from my neck to the lower back where they operated on me so I could have my movements back.”

Better than anyone, Mark knows how violent car accidents can be. Donghyuck continues:

“Then, I had to go through months of physiotherapy.”

Mark swallows with some difficulty. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I got the least of it.” He says. Doyoung comes, then, and places their drinks on the table. He ruffles Donghyuck’s hair and leaves. Donghyuck reaches for his drink and Mark does the same. 

After a few seconds, Donghyuck opens his mouth again. “My ex boyfriend died. I call him my ex because we weren’t dating by the time we crashed the car, but he was still my friend. He– he stayed at the hospital even after I left, but it wasn't enough.”

“How long ago?” Mark asks.

“Less than a year ago. That’s why I have this project.” Donghyuck smiles. “It’s a thing– a dream we used to have, actually. He always wanted to teach kids because he loved kids, and I always loved music. I’m thinking of opening up a music school, I mean, not really a school, you know, somewhere the kids can go after class to learn how to play the piano at first, but who knows? Maybe I can teach them even more instruments.”

“That’s really amazing, Donghyuck.”

“Yeah, well, Doyoung hyung is going to give me the place! For free, because he loves me and he’s– well, filthy rich. But I still need to buy a lot of things, so I’m asking for donations.”

“I can donate.” Mark says.

“Oh, Minhyung,” Donghyuck grins. “I’d be so thankful.”

Mark is still not used to the way his body reacts to hearing Donghyuck say his name, it’s like electricity running through him. 

“I”m going to give you the details. You have a phone, right?”

Mark nods.

“Great, gimme.” He says. Mark hands him his phone. 

While Donghyuck is busy with his phone, Mark drinks. Thinks. Drinks a little more. The sweet drink tastes so good, he almost moans. He barely drinks stuff like this, he barely drinks at all, because his father doesn’t let him unless it’s a party or a dinner, but it’s not like he wants to. 

“Done, you have my number and all the info you need for your donation.” He hands Mark his phone.

“Are you busy?” Mark asks, as he puts his phone on the table.

“Not really,” Donghyuck crosses his arms. “Why?”

“I have nothing to do,” Mark shrugs. “And you seem nice.”

Donghyuck laughs, loud and bright. “You can stick around! Well, maybe we should hang out somewhere else though, because there’s nothing much to do here yet.”

“But– I wanted to try karaoke.” Mark says. “I’ve never done it before.”

“What?!” Donghyuck shrieks. “That won’t do, Minhyung. Wait here.” 

Donghyuck moves fast. In a second, he’s sitting across from Mark, the other, he’s gone, running to Doyoung and talking to him – rushed, but quietly. 

Mark waits. He realises he isn’t as nervous as he was before. He likes this, being away from his home. From his father. Being _ Minhyung _ is cool, refreshing. 

“Good news!” Donghyuck says when he comes back. “Doyoung hyung will let us borrow a karaoke room.”

Mark is so excited. Buzzing, he’d say, as he follows Donghyuck into one of the karaoke rooms. 

“I can’t believe you have never been to one of these.” He shakes his head. “It’s so much fun!”

“I don’t doubt it for a second. I just really never had enough friends to fill one of these. I heard it’s funnier when you aren’t alone.”

“Well, I have always heard I’m like thirty people in just one body.” Donghyuck laughs. “Some would even say ‘too much’.”

“You’ve been perfect until now.” 

Forgive me, he wants to say as soon as he hears himself. I’ve never talked to a boy so cute, never been alone with one, not one that I want to be close to so badly. 

Donghyuck blushes. “Stop being so cute.” He bites back. 

Mark laughs and sits down as Donghyuck manages to prepare the karaoke room. Mark waits, breathing through his nose calmly. It starts suddenly, the song. Mark laughs as Donghyuck hands him a microphone. 

The lights go crazy and they sing, and sing. Mark is out of breath by the end of the fourth song, his cheeks hurt from smiling so much and his throat is dry, he flops down on the couch and watches as Donghyuck performs another song by himself. Mark’s head falls a little off the couch and his vision is upside down. He feels so– so– full of joy. 

This boy, that he barely knows, is making him smile and laugh so much and he’s enchanted. There’s so much Mark doesn’t know about Donghyuck, though his taste in girl groups songs isn’t one of them, and he wants to know more. 

He wants to keep Donghyuck around longer. 

He is zoning out, thinking about a life where he isn’t son of a politician and a worldwide famous pianist, a life where his mum plays the piano at home and he listens to her as he does his homework. Donghyuck is his neighbour, in this universe, and they walk to school together every day. He is daydreaming, he knows, but he can’t help himself. 

Mark startles, coming back to reality, when Donghyuck is hovering over him, arms on each side of his shoulders. “Are you sleepy?”

Johnny said _ “anything you want to do, mark” _and right now, of all the things Mark could do, what he wants to do the most is kiss Donghyuck. Right here, under the karaoke lights while Donghyuck hovers over him like a dream come true – big eyes and enticing lips – and the room smells like their overly sweet drinks. 

“Not sleepy,” Mark whispers. “I– I want to kiss you.”

Donghyuck giggles. “What?”

Mark is not going to back down. “I want to kiss you, Donghyuck.”

He stops smiling. “Are– are you serious?”

“You don’t want to? It’s fine, we barely know each other, I’m aware, yes, oh, I’m sorry–”

Donghyuck tastes like sugar and vodka. Mark knows that because Donghyuck is kissing him. And he kisses the same way he plays the piano: sure of what he’s doing, delicately and so, so full of emotion.

Mark lets him in and the swipe of Donghyuck’s tongue against his own tongue makes his legs fall open instantly and Donghyuck accommodates in between them. They are not touching beside their lips, but then Mark reaches for the small of Donghyuck’s back just to give his hands something to do and Donghyuck pulls back.

“I wasn’t expecting this.” He says. He is _ so _ close, Mark can taste his breath. 

“I wasn’t planning this,” Mark replies. “I can promise you that.”

Donghyuck hums. “It’s okay. I’m not complaining.” 

Then they’re kissing again. It’s so different from Mark’s first kiss – and so _ good _. He might as well just accepts this one as his first kiss, this intense, bone-melting kiss with this beautiful, strong boy, in this karaoke room in the heart of Seoul one day before Mark turns 21. 

He presses his fingertips on Donghyuck’s lower back, wanting him closer but afraid of pulling him in. There’s a moan trapped inside his throat and it’s burning him from the inside out so he lets go, moaning against Donghyuck’s sweet lips and it has an instant reaction. Donghyuck lowers his body against Mark’s and he feels so warm, so comfortable. 

Mark loses his inhibitions then. His fingers go under Donghyuck’s shirt because they are hungry to touch his skin, to feel it’s real. This is happening. Mark doesn’t want to let go. Donghyuck shudders against Mark’s body when Mark traces his scar. Mark kisses back with more strength, more _ desire _. 

“I–” Donghyuck starts to say. “Oh,” He gives up because Mark starts kissing his neck, warm skin tasting like cologne. “Minhyung.”

Mark doesn’t registers it, he keeps kissing, sucking, biting – it’s _ maddening _.

“Minhyung,” Donghyuck tries again. “I don’t think Doyoung will ever forgive me for deflowering his karaoke room.”

Mark blinks. “Oh, sorry.”

“I like your enthusiasm.” He smiles. “Do you want to take a walk?” 

They leave the karaoke room behind them, Mark doesn’t know if he will ever come here again, but the memory is going to follow him around for a long time.

Donghyuck leads him – the sky is darkening, temperature lowering – they stay pressed together while walking down the sidewalk, close and touching. Donghyuck hooks one finger on the loophole of Mark’s jeans. “I’m going to show you the best place to watch the sunset.”

“The very, very best?” He asks. 

The sun is almost gone, Mark thinks. He’s going to have to say goodbye soon, sooner than he’d like to. Mark knows, though, that he is not going to let anything keep him from reaching out for Donghyuck again. 

“The _ bestest _, I’d say.”

“That’s not a real word.” Mark teases.

“If I can say it, it’s a real word.”

They stop in front of a building. “Another building?” Mark asks.

“Yes, but I don’t know who owns this one.” Donghyuck laughs. “Come with me.”

_ Of course. _

The building is old, probably unoccupied. Donghyuck’s hand finds Mark’s and he pulls him slow and steady through the place, stairs, a corridor, stairs again. Then, they are face to face with a heavy door. When Donghyuck opens it, Mark realises they are at the rooftop.

“Oh, this can’t be safe, or legal.”

“Most things aren’t.” He shrugs. “Don’t be scared, Minhyung.”

“I’m not!” Mark says.

“Then come out.”

Mark sighs. He goes, obviously, and the wind up here is a little colder than down the streets. The sun isn’t totally set yet and Donghyuck is already sitting cross-legged, eyes closed and face turned to the sun, basking it in the light. “Say goodbye to the sun, Minhyung.”

“Goodbye, sun.” Mark says, sitting next to Donghyuck. He didn’t expect Donghyuck to lay his head on his shoulder, but he does and Mark just… stays there. Watching as the sun goes down. He feels repetitive inside his own mind, but it feels so good to be here. 

“Hey, I– I wanted to tell you something. You shared your story with me, and I feel it’s only fair that I share mine with you too.”

Donghyuck hums.

“My mum– I didn’t bring her today because she died.” Donghyuck doesn’t move, but he holds his palm up on Mark’s thigh. Mark fits his own hand there and Donghyuck interlaces their fingers. “It was years ago. I don’t know why I lied, I mean, I know but if you were to recognise me, you’d have said it already, I think.”

“I did."

“What?” 

“I know who you are, Mark.” 

“What– how?”

Donghyuck lifts his head. “Well, I saw you on TV once or twice when you were with your dad, but mostly, I’m really a fan of your mum’s work. And you have her eyes.” He smiles. “I only started playing the piano because I used to watch her all the time, my dad even bought us tickets to one of her last concerts. She was really good, Mark.”

“No– don’t call me Mark.” 

“Why?” 

“I like it more when you call me Minhyung.”

“Minhyung,” Donghyuck says. “Kiss me.”

Mark leans in, then, slowly, breathing Donghyuck in before their lips finally meet. It’s a different kiss than the one they shared at the karaoke room, it’s sensual, yes, but it’s less urgent. 

Mark brings his hands up, entertaining them on Donghyuck’s hair, so soft. Donghyuck is lovely, oh so lovely. He can’t say if the view from the rooftop makes the sunset look better, because his eyes are closed and he’s kissing a boy that shines as bright as the sun. 

Later, when the sun has been gone for quite some time and all the stars are starting to shine through the clouds and they have talked, shared secrets and dreams and preferences and Mark feels like there’s no one in the world right now that knows him better than this sunshine of a boy, they hold hands on their way to Donghyuck’s place – _ i’m gonna play you a song _– then, Mark’s phone buzzes.

He already knows it’s Johnny, reminding him his fairytale ends soon. Mark feels like Cinderella. 

Donghyuck’s building doesn’t have an elevator, so they take the stairs with their hands still clasped together.

"I have two roommates.” Donghyuck comments, opening the door. “We share the rent and, well, you know, all the other stuff we need.”

“Where are they?” He asks.

“Work, I guess.” Donghyuck replies. “They work in the mall, and I work part time at Doyoung hyung’s place because I’m still not graduated.” Right, the accident might have held him back from graduating. “I’m not working today, though.”

Donghyuck’s place isn’t big, by Mark’s standards, but it looks way more like a home than Mark’s house does. Mostly, Mark can see the essence of every person who lives here even though he doesn’t know Donghyuck’s roommates, but he can guess which ones are Donghyuck’s stuff: the music sheets all over the coffee table, the dirty yellow converses behind the laundry basket, the small, black and probably handed-down piano close to the wall across the room. 

“Sit down on the armchair, okay? You’ll be more comfortable.” Donghyuck says, he’s kneeling on the ground shuffling through the music sheets on the center table. “What would you like to hear?”

“Surprise me.”

The armchair is the nearest thing to the piano, and Mark flops down on it putting his legs up and hugging his knees. He watches silently as Donghyuck straightens the music sheet he chose, first Donghyuck cracks his knuckles – and he shouldn’t do that, but Mark thinks it’s oddly endearing – and the first note comes to life. His hands moves swiftly and smoothly over the piano keys, like it’s his first nature, like Donghyuck doesn’t even need to think. From where he’s sitting, Mark can see his only his profile, his button nose, the curve of his lips. 

Mark thinks Donghyuck looks graceful – dare he say, exquisite like this. 

Belatedly, Mark recognises the song he’s playing. His eyes are filling with tears even before he can even understand what’s happening. It’s his mum’s composition, one of the first ones she ever did.

Mark remembers being eleven years old and sitting next to her while she tried to come up with a beautiful, beautiful melody – he remembers vividly, the way her eyes looked brighter than Sirius when she finished it. It’s _ lovely _ that Donghyuck would play him this very song, out of all the songs he could choose. It means a lot to him.

The last note fills the air and Mark lets out a shuddered breathe. “Donghyuck,” He starts. “I–”

“Minhyung.” Donghyuck interrupts him. “Why do I feel like I’m never going to see you again?”

“I can’t promise you anything.”

“Why not?” He pouts. He is so far away, Mark wants to touch him, to hold him close. 

“Because I’m not– I don’t make my own choices. I don’t– I don’t decide my own life.”

“Why? It’s your life, Minhyung. Not your dad’s life. I know… I know how it feels to lose someone. You told me at the rooftop you never played the piano again when it’s something that keeps your mum so close to you…”

“You don’t understand how it feels to lose a mother.” Mark says. “It’s not the same.”

Donghyuck’s face is neutral, but Mark regrets his words instantly. 

“Do not invalidate my grief.”

“I’m sorry, I just. I don’t feel like I’m ready.” Mark says. “I’m going to be twenty one in less than five hours probably, and I don’t feel like it. It’s like I’m still fifteen years old, and I’m waiting for my mum to come home. I’m hiding underneath her piano and I’m waiting for her.”

“It’s okay to feel like that… It’s okay to feel scared, to grief.” Donghyuck says, his voice soothing, like a feather caressing his face. “It’s not okay to let life pass through you, though.”

“I don’t want to let her go.”

“You won’t. Changing– living doesn’t mean letting her go.” 

Mark knows it’s true. It’s been five years since his mum died and he hasn’t been living since then. He’s been letting his father control his choices, his life, because he’s too scared to take the lead. It’s _ normal _, some people might say, to grieve for so long.

But Donghyuck’s right. Mark is not just holding on to something that’s not there anymore, he’s using it as an excuse to not confront his demons. 

“Let me play you something.” Mark says. “Let me– I want to play again.”

“Come here.” Donghyuck taps the empty space next to him. 

Confronting the piano again leaves Mark sweating. He fears not knowing which key to press, fears not knowing how to read the music sheet anymore. He fears having lost it, that spark that always made him feel like the happiest boy in the world. 

“What are you going to play?”

“Debussy.” Mark says. “I know it’s a cliche, but...” He trails off.

Mark knows Donghyuck wants to ask “_ why not one of your mother’s compositions?” _but there are some things that Mark will have to do by himself. 

Some things Donghyuck doesn’t have to try to help with, because he’s helped enough. Donghyuck has been giving Mark just a glimpse of hope– from now on, it’s on Mark. To transform his pain into art, just like Donghyuck is doing. 

Donghyuck has lost someone – a lover, a friend –, and he made something out of it. Donghyuck managed his pain, turned it into a friend. Mark knows now, that this is the best way of making through it. 

Meeting Donghyuck had been a gift, a blessing. Mark will have to thank God before going to bed this night. 

“Which one?” Donghyuck asks.

Mark breathes in. Donghyuck smells familiar, clean – sweetish, a little bit floral, but extremely pleasant. “Listen.” He replies. 

He touches the first piano key and the sound fills in the apartment to the brim, fills in his own ears with its soft classical welcoming reverberate. The oddly nostalgic, somewhat depressing notes only make Mark's heart warmer by the second. His fingers move through the piano keys with sureness, and for a second there Mark forgets he hasn’t played in years.

Clair de lune has always been the easiest one for him to play, he used to close his eyes and let go. He doesn’t close his eyes now, though, because he loves to see his fingers pressing Donghyuck’s piano keys as Donghyuck’s warm fingers presses against his thigh. 

Mark won’t let this go again. The piano. His mother. He won’t back down, it doesn’t matter if his father will make it hard. Mark is an artist, not a politician. And he won’t let anyone take it from him again. 

Mark's phone buzzes once more, after he played the piano with Donghyuck for long enough for his hands to turn sore. He can't pretend it's not the end. 

"Something wrong?" Donghyuck asks, he's laying down on Mark's lap. It must be uncomfortable to lay down with his feet still on the floor. "Do you have to go?"

"Can you read minds?" Mark laughs. 

"Not really, you're just easy to deciphering."

"My friend is telling me he's picking me up in ten minutes." 

Saying goodbye is always the hardest part. Mark knows that better than anyone, that’s why he never said it, that’s why he lets Donghyuck kiss him urgently against his front door.

“I will see you soon_” _Donghyuck whispers against his bruised lips. "I'm going to text you everyday."

Mark smiles. 

Then, he's home and Donghyuck feels like a dream. 

The next day, as he gets ready for his 21st birthday dinner, he texts Donghyuck pictures of his suit. Donghyuck texts back "_ looking hot and fun" _because Mark had opted for a colourful tie.

Dinner isn't as bad as he thought it would be – he plays the piano. His father is fuming, he can feel the way he is shooting daggers at Mark's back, but Mark has Johnny, and the tall agent stays next to him the whole time, daring Mr. Lee to make a show. 

A few guests are surprised, no one knew Mark had inherited his mum's pure, undeniable talent. The news is going to make the front page, he's sure and for the first time he doesn't hate it. Mark wants everyone to know, to comment, wants everyone to compare him to his mum, to ask themselves whose path is he going to follow? Mark knows there's not a doubt in his mind about what he wants to be.

Being 21 makes Mark feel stronger. 

A day after turning twenty-one he decides to put up some of his favourite pictures of his mum in his room and the living room too. Mark’s father doesn't comment on that. Of course, with the elections so close, Mark’s father is busy being the man the nation wanted, expected him to be and that never really included being a real, loving father. 

Mark doesn't feel guilty for doing what he did. His mum was _ beautiful _and she deserved to be celebrated and Mark would be damned if he let one more day go by pretending she isn't alive inside his heart. 

He also donates to Donghyuck’s project in the same day and he gets a text, less than fifteen minutes later, containing Donghyuck's teary eyes in a zoomed in and shaky selfie.

_ Don't cry _, he messages back.

_ I miss you _, is what he receives as a reply.

Sneaking out so soon would be impossible, Mark knows that, even with Johnny's help, and he can't keep risking Johnny's job like that. He needs a plan to see Donghyuck again soon, the sooner the better. Even if just for a little bit, even if surrounded by people.

And the opportunity comes a week later when Mark's dad has to travel for a political event and Mark stays behind, for the first time. It isn't simple, but at this point his dad knows better than to fight over a lost battle. 

A little after lunch time, Mark sits down with Johnny at the kitchen table.

"Don't look at me like that." Johnny says, not even looking into Mark's face, extremely busy with his dessert. 

"I need a favour."

"Obviously." Johnny sighs. "I can't sneak you out again."

"I know that." Mark says. "I don't want you to sneak _me_ _out."_

"Oh," Johnny finally looks at him. "I don't like your tone."

"Sneak him in."

"Who?"

"You know who. Donghyuck."

"You want me to sneak in a potential threat–"

"He is _ not _ a threat." Mark rolls his eyes. "He is my friend."

"Yes,_ friend." _ Johnny replies. "I hope you don't go kissing all your friends, I'm not into that."

Mark laughs.

"Please, Johnny."

Pleading works, apparently, because Johnny narrows his eyes and says: "Fine. Tell him I'm picking him up tonight."

"Oh! I will tell him right now, oh God."

"And I will take him back to his place after lunch tomorrow. Your father will come home by the end of the day."

Mark freezes. 

That means Donghyuck will stay the night. He's going to _ sleep _ here, with Mark. It makes sense, it wouldn't be fair for Johnny to play a particular driver role for Donghyuck and it wouldn't be fair for Mark either to have an important friend around for so little. It still takes him by surprise and makes his palms sweaty: the prospect of sharing a night with Donghyuck is both exciting and scary.

Johnny continues. "I hope you know how much trust I put in you."

"I– it's the same for me, Johnny, I won't take it for granted."

"I hope you know what you are doing, too, with bringing this boy so close."

Mark understands where Johnny is coming from, as much as he wants to jump into defending Donghyuck, Mark knows Johnny was trained for suspecting everything and everyone. Donghyuck would never hurt Mark or behave like a threat to him or anyone else, but Mark knows this because he's been close to Donghyuck, exposed to his light and his sweet voice, warm hands and even warmer eyes. Johnny hasn't.

Johnny doesn't know how welcoming and _ good _Donghyuck is.

"Donghyuck is worth it." Mark says. 

He is sure.

Johnny leaves to pick Donghyuck at his place before dinner time. Mark's dad must be flying above the ocean by now and Mark feels… lighthearted. He open his windows, letting the fresh air into the room. 

Saying he is nervous would be an understatement. His palms are sweating, a common occurrence, he has been texting Donghyuck ever since they met, but he only _ saw _ him once. And Mark _ kissed _ him. Multiple times during the day they spent together. He doesn't want to think too much, read too much into it, but he's hoping, wanting. It almost hurts, how much Mark wants to kiss Donghyuck again. 

Johnny texts him saying he got him at the same time Donghyuck sends him a selfie where he's smiling showing off the top of Johnny's head in the driver's seat.

_ scary :(, _Donghyuck texts.

_ johnny? he is just a teddy bear, _ Mark sends back.

He ignores the next few messages in favour of tidying up his room and himself. Finding his cologne, he drips a little of it on his hands, then, he reckons he could use a little more and ends up dripping too much. At least it smells good. And the windows are open. 

Mark looks down from the window, the garden looks beautiful even though the weather lately has been rough. 

He feels his heart growing against his rib cage as he watches, expecting to see Johnny's black car driving through the gates. While waiting, he closes his eyes and lets his mind wander around and finds himself leaning back on a couch that isn't his, listening to songs that he doesn't normally listens to, inhaling a scent that made him dizzy – or that was the alcohol – kissing a boy whom he had the most heartbreaking experience in common with.

Mark could _ taste _ this memory, could feel the warmth that irradiated from Donghyuck. 

Absorbed in his own mind, Mark doesn't see it – the car coming through the gates – and as a consequence he isn't ready to welcome Donghyuck. But it's not like Donghyuck needs someone to tell him to feel at home, as Donghyuck comes inside his room with Johnny following close behind. 

"This house is _ huge _ , wow, it looked big through pictures and stuff but in person is just _ massive." _Donghyuck is saying, already throwing his backpack on Mark's bed.

"Donghyuck." He says, and to his own ears he sound so amazed. Johnny rolls his eyes. 

"I will leave you guys alone," Johnny says. "Be good."

"Yes, sir." Donghyuck says. So polite.

Johnny closes the door and Donghyuck leans against it. "Missed me?"

"More than you would think." Mark replies. "What's up with you calling him 'sir'?"

"I am just being a well mannered boy." Donghyuck grins. "Mommy taught me well."

Mark laughs. 

"Come here." Donghyuck says. 

And Mark goes.

"Why do you smell so citrusy?" Donghyuck asks when they are close enough. He inhales deeply and smirks.

"I accidentally showered in perfume." Mark says, embarrassed. "Is it bad?"

Donghyuck's hand slides up Mark's arms coming to rest on his shoulders. "No." He says. "Not at all."

"I can't believe you are here." Mark states. 

"I really thought I would never see you again." The reply comes soft spoken, they are close enough that neither of them need to speak louder than a whisper. 

Mark wants to kiss him.

"So I had to say yes when you asked me to come over even if I feel like this shouldn't be happening. I shouldn't be here."

"That's not true." Mark whispers. One step closer to Donghyuck and they are pressed together. 

"Why do I feel like I've known you for years?"

"Maybe you have." Mark shrugs.

"Maybe we know each other from a different universe."

"Maybe a hundred different universes. Maybe I am your roommate in one of them."

"That's too boring."

"Maybe a vampire roommate?"

Donghyuck laughs. 

"Maybe I summon you in my college dorm." He jokes.

Mark wants to kiss him so badly. Mark wants to feel his soft full lips again. He wants to be the reason why Donghyuck gasps. Wants to know how he tastes when he's sober.

"Kiss me." Donghyuck says.

"You _ are _ a mind reader."

"No, you just keep looking at my lips like an idiot." He rolls his eyes. "Kiss me, Minhyung."

_ An order. _

Mark leans in slowly, savouring the way Donghyuck's eyes flutter. Then he kisses Donghyuck. Not slowly, not shyly. Mark is sure of what he's doing. His hands hold Donghyuck's waist, squeezing and bringing him closer, mouth kissing frantically. 

If during their first kiss Mark tasted the sweet drink all over Donghyuck's tongue now he tastes green tea and he isn't surprised that Donghyuck can go from tasting vodka to tasting tea, he's like _ that _. He can grow louder one second and quiet next, can be a supernova exploding or a soft breeze. 

Donghyuck has a hundred people living inside him and Mark is fascinated by that.

He kisses Mark back with as much strength, pressing himself against Mark and exploring Mark's mouth like he is on a mission. He can't hold back the little sound he lets out, no one would manage to hold back, not when it's Donghyuck who's kissing you. 

"You are unreal," Mark says a second after Donghyuck pulls back to kiss his whole face instead of just his mouth.

"What does that mean?" He mumbles, mouth dragging alongside Mark's jawline. "Does it means you feel like you are dreaming?"

"I feel like my life changed upside down."

"I feel like _ you _ changed."

_ How do you know me so well? _ Mark wants to ask. How can someone he barely knows mean so much to him already? How can Donghyuck's kisses make Mark feel like he's glowing?

"I feel changed too." 

Donghyuck smiles, next he untangles himself from Mark, walking farther into the bedroom. He looks up at the picture hanging in the middle of Mark's wall. "Your mum looks lovely here."

Mark doesn't turn to look. 

"I'm glad to see her." Donghyuck continues.

"Me too." He responds. Mark opens his bedroom door again. "Want to see something?" He asks.

"Sure."

"Come with me."

"Always."

Mark blushes and takes Donghyuck's hand. He doesn't need to look at him to know Donghyuck is smiling. Together, they cross the house. Mark senses Donghyuck's heavy eyes glued to his every move and feels relieved they weren't face to face. 

The ballroom is always closed unless there is a party happening soon. There's no party happening, but since Mark started to own up to his title – the boss – he managed to keep the ballroom open, just for this moment.

"Minhyung," Donghyuck starts to say, but Mark doesn't let him finish.

"Welcome to the Lee family ballroom." Mark says bitterly. "I hated every second I've ever spent here."

"Why?"

"Because I was never here for the right reasons." Mark looks around. "I was never here to celebrate anything I wanted to celebrate."

"Not even your birthday?" Donghyuck questions.

"Birthdays stopped being cool after I lost my best friend." He shrugs. "But, well, look. I am very thankful for you."

"Me?" Donghyuck laughs. "Why is that?"

"You taught me a very important lesson." Mark walks closer to the piano. He knows Donghyuck is following. "Your pain is not your enemy. Sometimes you can make it your friend."

"That's quite inspirational."

"Meeting you was inspirational." 

"Minhyung. Don't put me in a pedestal." Donghyuck sounds off, voice tight. "I don't deserve it."

Mark turns on his heels. "Look at me." He says. "You showed me it was possible to deal with something I never knew I would manage to deal with. I'm not putting you in pedestal, I'm just being honest. Having you close after that has nothing to do with that, thought, but I like kissing you."

Donghyuck laughs. 

"I don't want you to hang on me–" 

"I am not. I wanted a friend more than anything that day. The day we met." Mark says. "You gave me a friend, you gave me _ you. _"

"I– I think I needed a friend too." Donghyuck says. "The kissing was unexpected, but welcomed."

It's Mark's turn to laugh. 

"You taught me something too, though, you taught me that there's no reason to run away from sadness. Embracing it is okay, too. I feel like most of the time I'm making myself too busy to feel."

"See, we balance each other."

Donghyuck looks at him. Mark, again, noticed how insanely beautiful he is.

"We do."

For a second, Mark forgets what he should be doing, but it comes back to him quickly. "This is my mum's piano."

Donghyuck's eyes grow big as he looks at it. "I– wow, it's gorgeous."

Mark nods. "It was made for her, you know? There's no other like this one."

"Well, there was no other like your mum so it fits."

Hearing that makes Mark's heart beat faster. Sometimes he forgets his mum isn't just his mum to a lot of people. To the rest of the world, she is a star. Donghyuck loves Mark's mum, but as an idol. Mark doesn't doubt he would love her as a person, too.

"Want to play something on it?" He asks, restless all of sudden. "Together, like we did at your place?"

Donghyuck doesn't answer at first. He keeps looking at the piano, fingers softly brushing the keyboard. He seems to be lost in his own head. 

Mark waits, he did the same before his birthday dinner. There's something intimidating about the huge piano, like it is staring back at you. 

"It's beautiful."

"Yes."

"Can I sit?"

"Of course,"

Donghyuck sits and Mark sits next to him, the piano bench long enough to accommodate them both, its cushion feels comfortable underneath Mark and, as always, there's a warmth surrounding him that could only ever come from Donghyuck.

"What are we going to play?" Mark asks, timid.

"Surprise me." Donghyuck replies. "I can follow your lead in a second."

Mark nods. "I have a feeling you would know more of my mum's compositions?"

"I wasn't exaggerating when I said she made me want to play. I was really touched by her from the beginning." 

"She would have loved you." Mark says. "She always loved the gentle ones the most."

He blushes. "Shut up."

"Let's play my favourite, then. I– I haven't played this one in a very long time so forgive me if I sound a little off." He clears his throat. "I'm scared I will fuck it up."

"It's okay." 

"Promise?"

Donghyuck offers him his pinky finger. "Yes."

Playing _ agape _ again hurts. 

Mark's fingers presses down on each piano key heavily and genuine in a way he wasn't used to. Maybe it's the fact that he hasn't played it in years, or the fact that it makes him feel lonely as much as it makes him feel surrounded by his mum's love. Maybe it's because Donghyuck follows his lead so naturally it startles Mark, or the way he sucks in a shaky breath because he doesn't want to cry.

Mostly, it hurts because it's his song. His mum composed for him, thinking of him. She had asked to eleven years old Mark: Do you know what agape means? 

"No," Mark had said. "Is it a bad word? I can say bad words now, I'm grown."

His mum laughed. "You can't say bad words until you are 21, mister. Now, come sit. I composed this one just for you."

"A song?" Mark asked. 

His mum nodded. "My best song." 

"What does agape means, mum?" He questioned, already sitting with her. She kissed his forehead before replying.

"It's a type of love. The purest, strongest, most intense and selfless form of loving someone." 

She started playing, Mark had listened intently to his song.

"That's how I would describe my love for you, son. Unconditional, unending."

What brings him back to the current moment he's living is the strangled sound that Mark, belatedly, realises came from him. The throaty, rough sound is engulfed by the piano key Donghyuck presses, but Mark hears it echoing. 

"Keep going, Minhyung." Donghyuck says. "You've got it."

Mark nods. His eyes are still dry, burning with the need to let the tears out, but Mark doesn't want to cry. Crying can only do so much to make you feel better. He presses the next note and Donghyuck follows with the next and so they go and little by little the entire ballroom seems warmer and lovely with Mark's mum melody resounding in the air.

The feeling is still there, Mark notices. The same feeling that took over him days ago at Donghyuck's house, the same one that surrounded him during his birthday dinner and what he is feeling now: _ grounding. _

Like he's not _ lost _ anymore. Floating around without a destination, without a home. 

"Minhyung?" Donghyuck calls softly when they are done with the song and Mark still doesn't open his mouth. "Mark?"

Mark blinks. "Well, that was something."

"You are really good."

"Thanks." Mark smiles. "I quite literally learnt from the best."

Donghyuck laughs. "Ugh, so lucky." He rests his head on Mark's shoulder. "You look devastatingly handsome when playing."

"You are such a flirty."

"Yes, well, can you blame me?" He moves his head so his lips are touching Mark's neck. "When you look like this?"

"Like what?" Mark whispers. His fingers are trembling and it doesn't make _ sense, _he shouldn't be so affected by a boy he had already tasted. 

"Like a dream."

He blushes. 

"I want to kiss you." Donghyuck says, lips dragging tenderly against the sensitive skin of Mark's neck. "May I?"

Was there ever any chance of Mark saying no? He nods and turns his head, Donghyuck is already expecting and his eyes are closed, lips slightly pouty – like they always are. Mark leans in, excited to feel Donghyuck so close to him again. 

Donghyuck’s thumb caresses Mark' earlobe as his palm fits weirdly perfectly around Mark's cheek, he pushes his tongue in and Mark groans, throaty and quietly, against his mouth, wanting more of whatever it is Donghyuck is willing to give. 

Kissing is nice. 

Kissing Donghyuck is an _ experience_. He is unrepentant in the way he pulls Mark closer to him in the piano bench, thighs touching and skin warm. 

Mark melts into the kiss, sucking on Donghyuck's lower lip hungrily. Donghyuck's other hand comes to hold Mark's thigh, and Mark's eyes shot open when Donghyuck pulls his leg so he's partially sat on his lap.

"Okay?" Donghyuck asks when Mark stops kissing back.

"O– okay."

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Mark takes a second to understand his feelings. He doesn't think _ uncomfortable _is the word he would use to describe the warmth creeping up his lower belly. 

"No." Mark replies. "Want to go back to my bedroom?" He asks, feeling brave and _ desirous _ all of sudden. _ I'm not usually like this, _Mark wants to say, but he know Donghyuck will hardly care about this, if Mark is wanting too much.

"Are you– okay, yes. Your bedroom. Sure."

Donghyuck keeps a hand on Mark's lower back all the way back to his bedroom. 

While Mark closes the door, Donghyuck is already laying down in the enormous bed, kicking off his shoes – the same dirty yellow converse Mark saw at his place. "How do you manage to even wake up at all with a bed this big?"

"It's a very difficult task." Mark says, kneeling on the bed. "But it's a task I must complete."

"Come here." 

The window is still wide open and the wind makes the room feels colder than it is. Mark takes his shoes off and lies down, shoulder to shoulder with Donghyuck.

"What did you say to convince Mr. Johnny to bring me here?" 

Mr. Johnny. It's so funny to see someone treat Johnny like this, like a real adult.

"I told him you were a friend. I– I didn't know what else to say."

"Well," He says. "I wouldn't mind if you wanted to call me your boyfriend."

Mark is looking at the ceiling, but as he hears these words, he turns his head to look at Donghyuck so quickly it hurts. "Really?"

Donghyuck isn't looking at him, but he is blushing.

"Yes, we've already kissed. What does that make us?"

"Boyfriends?" He questions. 

"Exactly!"

"When you put it like that," Mark says, smiling when Donghyuck pouts. "I'm just joking, come on. I would love to be your boyfriend."

"Really?" Donghyuck asks, still not looking at Mark. "Even if I have some issues?"

"I have some issues, too. You still want me, don't you?"

Suddenly, Donghyuck throws himself on top of Mark, hiding his face on Mark's chest. Mark smiles, putting his arms around Donghyuck lithe body. 

"I do."

"What?"

Donghyuck whines. "I do want you."

Mark feels so relieved. 

"Then it's settled." He says, hand stroking Donghyuck's hair. "But you know… it's going to be tough, right? To be with me."

Donghyuck raises his head. "Don't say that."

"It's true." Mark shrugs. 

"I'm willing. It's not like I'm perfect."

"You could be. If only your taste in music was better."

"Shut up." He whines. "I'm serious."

"Me too. You are going to be my first boyfriend."

"I know. That's a lot of pressure."

"I think you are going to do well."

Donghyuck leans in, kissing Mark hurriedly like he's scared Mark is about to vanish into a puff of smoke. He lets his hand slide down to hold firmly at Donghyuck's hips.

At 20, everything Mark wanted was a friend. Someone who would listen to him, someone to make him smile.

At 21, Mark had more than what he wished for.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are welcomed , any questions too. 🦊


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